Proud Sarah
by Meiriona
Summary: Being a tale of magic, mystery, and very interesting relatives.
1. Prologue

_Note: It is not necessary to read this poem to understand the fanfiction that follows, but as I included some of it in the text, and the poem itself is now in the public domain, rather than forcing my readers to hunt it down, I felt it wise to include Proud Margret with this prologue. Indeed, many readers will skip a prologue entirely, so feel free to move right on to the first chapter, for this, which I write now, is but a supplementary background. Included here is a small bit, in the style of Le Mortè de Artur, on Morgan le Fae. _

* * *

PROUD Margret's father of wealth had store,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And he was a king seven kingdoms o'er,  
But that grief is heavy I know. 

To her came wooing good earls two,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
But neither of them would she hearken unto,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

To her came wooing princes five,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
Yet not one of them would the maiden have,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

To her came wooing kings then seven,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
But unto none her hand has she given,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king asked his mother to read,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
How to win proud Margret he might speed,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And say how much thou wilt give unto me,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"That herself may into the hill come to thee?"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

One Sunday morning it fell out so,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
Proud Margret unto the church should go,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And all as she goes, and all as she stays,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

So she goeth around the hill compassing,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margret stept in at the door of the hill,  
Time with the goes slow.--  
And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyful,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

So he took the maiden upon his knee,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

So he took the maiden his arms between,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

So she was in the hill for eight round years,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
There bare she two sons and a daughter so fair,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

When she had been full eight years there,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
She wished to go home to her mother so dear,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king spake to his footpages twain,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Put ye the gray pacers now unto the wain,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And Margret out at the hill-door stept,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And her little children they thereat wept,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
So he lifteth her into the gilded wain,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear now thou footpage what I unto thee say,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Thou now shalt drive her to her mother's straightway,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margret stept in o'er the door-sill,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And her mother saluteth her with eyes joyful,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And where heat thou so long stayed?"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"I have been in the flowery meads,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"What veil is that thou wearest on thy hair?"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Such as women and mothers use to wear,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"Well may I wear a veil on my head,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"In the hill have I been these eight round years,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"The loveliest maiden the world doth bear,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear thou, proud Margret, what I say unto thee,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Can I go with thee home thy children to see?"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king stept now in at the door,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And Margret thereat fell down on the floor,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And stayest thou now here complaining of me,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore?"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Camest thou not of thyself in at my door?"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"And pack to the hill to thy children wee,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The hill-king struck her with a twisted root,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"And pack to the hill without any dispute,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And lifted her into the gilded wain,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margret stept in at the hill door,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
And her little children rejoiced therefòre,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"It is not worth while rejoicing for me,"  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"Christ grant that I never a mother had been,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The one brought out a gilded chair,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
"O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there,"  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The one brought out a filled up horn,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
The other put therein a gilded corn,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The first drink she drank out of the horn,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
She forgot straightway both heaven and earth,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The second drink she drank out of the horn,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
She forgot straightway both God and his word,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

The third drink she drank out of the horn,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
She forgot straightway both sister and brother,  
But that grief is heavy I knew.

She forgot straightway both sister and brother,  
Time with me goes slow.--  
But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

* * *

_How Morgan le Fae did come to reside Underground, and how her brother was saved from a most familiar of fates._

And one day young Morgan, being a child of ten summers, was angered at being bade attend the infant Arthur, and she said – you horrid child, it is for you that my father has been slain and my mother taken from me by that man, and here she spake of the High King Uther Pendragon, who slayed the Duke of Tintigel, who was her mother's husband. You horrid child, she said, how I wish that some creatures of equal horror, some troll or goblin or pack of pixies, would come and take you away, that I may be rid of you.

And then before Morgan appeared a Fae of many years, he who was the King of the Gobelins, who was called Drystan and who was father to young Titania, and he said to Morgan – I will take this child, and shall make him a Fae, and you shall be rid of him.

And young Morgan wailed and gnashed her teeth, saying to Drystan – You will not! He is my brother, and not yours. If you need to make a Fae of someone, make it me, and I will go away with you.

When Drystan heard Morgan's words he was moved, and bethought to amend his words. I shall not take the boy then, said Drystan, and shall instead take you, but not now. For you are too old to become full fae by a word, and too young to take power from one now dead.

And he did then tell her of an island that she would rule over, and that would come to be known as Avalon in later days. Morgan then did call herself Fae, and did watch carefully her brother until he came of age and she was late claimed by Drystan to serve the Fae in the magical arts which she had learned.

_fin_


	2. Chapter One: Time With Me Goes Slow

Proud Sarah. Being a tale of magic, mystery, and really interesting relatives.

"And the hill-king asked his mother to read,  
Time with me goes slow. –

How to win proud Margret he might speed,  
But that grief is heavy I know."

Sarah, a young woman of some two and a half decades and possessing modest beauty, was reciting poetry in the small, gated courtyard of the private high school where she had been teaching drama now for a year. There was a small garden, left mostly untended save when there was some type of environmental club active on campus. She felt at ease here, as if the iron gates shut out the world and allowed her the freedom to lose herself in the characters' or poet's worlds instead of her own.

""And say how much thou wilt give unto me,"  
Time with me goes slow.—

"That herself may into the hill come to thee?"  
But that grief is heavy I know."

When Sarah had first read the poem, she had been indignant. The hill king fair tricks a girl into becoming his wife, and then deprives her of her own dear mother out of insecurity and typical male pig headedness? That's not fair!

After all, she reasoned, she'd already given him two sons and a daughter; shouldn't her own mother want to see them? What child would not benefit form a grandmother? He had no right to assume she was speaking ill of him, and then to slap her? Why, Proud Margret should had left him then and there, renounced his claim on her.

Then, Sarah read it again, this time trying to see things from the hill king's perspective, as she wanted to have the poem acted out for a spring skit competition, and she needed to help her actors to live the roles. It was... somehow as if a, a tale from her youth had suddenly been explained to her, as not what she had thought. As more than the side of the story she had been told.

""Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,"  
Time with me goes slow. –

"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,"  
But that grief is heavy I know."

Sarah felt power in her recitation, as if she'd found a secret rhythm that harmonized with her pulse and that of the earth around her, and matched the words to that rhythm.

"One Sunday morning it fell out so,  
Time with me goes slow.—

Proud Margaret unto the church should go,  
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And all as she goes, and all as she stays,  
Time with me goes slow. –

All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,  
But that grief is heavy I know."

Deep in the Underground, Sarah's words could be heard, spoken soft and clear. Ludo looked up, inquiring "Sawah?" with a longing.

"My Lady…" Didymus asked in a bare whisper.

"So she goeth around the hill compassing,  
Time with me goes slow.—

So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,  
But that grief is heavy I know."

Sarah concentrated on imagining what the hill door would look like, what the world Underhill would look like. To her, it would be a world of glitter and splendour, imposing and welcoming at the same time.

"Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill,  
Time with me goes slow.—"

Sarah rose, lost in recitation, no longer aware of anything but the words that she was speaking. In the garden outside the Labyrinth, Hoggle yelped as a forgotten fairy bit him. Never before had the words of one not sovereign echoed thus in the Underground.

"And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyful,  
But that grief is heavy I know."

Stepping forth with eyes closed, Sarah did not notice the wind change direction, or the sounds of children and passing cars vanish. She was trying to envision what the Hill King would look like, greeting Proud Margret, a woman he had loved from afar. Such joy, such longing there would be.

"Sarah…" None had ever spoken her name in that manner, save one. One whom she had long since regarded as no more than a dream, a dream evoked by days of reading fairy tales, agonising over her treatment of family, and a subconscious desire to truly grow up. Faltering, Sarah shut tight her eyes, feeling a body behind her, a dizzying vertigo as outdoors became in.

"So he took the maiden upon his knee," And so he did, Sarah gasping with what little breath remained "Time with me goes slow.—" as she was drawn backwards to be seated by gentle yet strong hands clad in soft leather. She lost her resolve then and opened her eyes.

She was no longer in the courtyard, but in a dimly lit throne room she remembered from a long ago dream. Never mind that it was filthy and not at all the Underhill palace she had attributed to the hill king, the next lines came unbidden. Her only link to sanity, to the world she knew, was to continue the poem.

"And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,  
But that grief is heavy I know." She would not turn. She could not. Sarah knew all too well what she would see if she turned around. Oddly proportioned eyes, one bright azure, the other a darker, dilated, eerie cobalt, and a cruel smile that was somehow, impossibly, alluring.

Sarah felt gloved hands cover her own, and into her ear whispered:  
"So he took the maiden his arms between,  
Time with me goes slow.—  
He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,  
But that grief is heavy I know."

"Jareth," Sarah gasped, speaking a name she hadn't heard in ten years, and perhaps had never before uttered. Something cool slipped into her palm.

"Sarah, I am not the hill king, I offered no mother of mine gold to have you bring yourself here."

"Time with thee goes slow." Sarah nodded, wrapped in the embrace of the Goblin King. It was oddly comforting, she felt _needed_ as never before.

"Nor will I strike you on cheek rosie-," Here an amused smirk crossed his face and entered into his voice. "Unless you're asking for it, of course." Both laughed at this, and the tension was broken. Sarah then found it in her to turn and look the Goblin King in the eye. He hadn't aged a day since last she saw him, and the only difference from the image that had haunted her dreams for a time was that these eyes did not seem angered, haughty or teasing, but held a deep look of longing.

"Why, Jareth?" Sarah asked, closing her fingers around the gold band he had slipped her.

"Why?" He repeated disbelievingly. "Why? Because I am the Goblin King!" Jareth said with great mirth. "Because you beat me at my own game, proved yourself my equal, no, my better!" Sarah compared herself then to Proud Margret, who had pursuing her 'Kings then seven, but unto none her hand has she given.' What was she, a prize for the Goblin King? That could not be it, she needed a real reason.

"Because of the fire in your eyes, Sarah! Because you love so deeply you risked your life to save your baby brother." Well, at least that was honesty, and was there some affection in his tone? Sarah thought so, but couldn't be sure.

"Because when I danced with you all those years ago, I saw the woman you would grow into. Because... what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl." Truth. Sarah had been able to read truth in a person's eyes from the age of fifteen. She never understood how she knew they were telling the truth, it just was suddenly in her mind, the word resonating as if they spoke not to her ears but to her soul. He did love her, or at least he believed he did.

But did he know what ten years had meant for her?

Did he know why she'd become so much closer to Karen and to Toby? How her mother had been killed by her lover, Jeremy, when age began to show on them both and the sight of the young Sarah drove him mad? How Sarah had suspected the abuse stemmed from her visits, and so went less and less to see her mother, knowing it made her sad, but in an effort to protect the woman who had never really protected her? Did Jareth know that Sarah had never told her father any of the reasons why she stopped acting and writing, why she decided she would rather nurture actors and artists than be one herself?

Did Jareth realize she'd never cried for her mother's loss? Or know of the tears she shed in the time she lived with the knowledge that if she went to see her mother, it would lead to beatings for Linda? Why she'd locked away her dreams of fame and instead focused on bringing another that fame.

"But she never forgot her sorrow bound mother, but that grief is heavy, I know" It had been ten years, yet he'd watched respectfully the entire time. What was a decade to a race who measured their lives in centuries? He knew. He knew it all

"Sarah, please." Jareth sounded almost pained, bracing himself for something horrible beyond belief. "I will not ask you again,"

"You never asked once, Jareth. You demanded, you ordered." Sarah argued, pulling away to view him at arms length and glare. Maybe he_had_ thought of it as asking, Sarah reflected. After all, he_ was_ a king. It was possible he wasn't very good at asking for favours or information.

"I didn't, did I?" Jareth amended, brows furrowed. "I'll have to fix that. Well then, Sarah. Will you, can you, ever love me? Could you, would you, rule by my side? Might I, someday, give you a gold crown and the name of queen?"

"Jareth, you're a lousy poet." Sarah remarked wryly, turning the simple gold band over and over between her fingers. "But, yes, I _could_ come to love you, I'm sure. If I came to love you, I would rule by your side, since you obviously need the help. Yes, someday, if the circumstances fall out right, you might name me queen."

He hadn't asked the right questions, you see. Sarah felt proud of herself for the cleverness of her answers, taking pleasure in sidestepping his intent by giving a vague yes, but regretted it slightly when she saw hurt register in his eyes, no matter how quickly he masked it.

"Honestly, are you the Goblin King or not? Don't you know if you want a straight answer, you have to be careful of how you phrase your questions? None of this dancing around the subject. If you want to know, right now, do I love you, and will I marry you or something of the sort, then the answer is no, and it is no _because_ I've spent years considering you a dream, my way of dealing with my mother running off with Jeremy. You can't really fall in love with people you make up, understand. Can that change? Of course, assuming this is real. I'm not fifteen anymore, I understand there's more to the world than the black and white, right and wrong characters I did then."

"Black and white? Right and wrong? What, so was I your villain, dear Sarah? The wicked Goblin King you had to defeat and destroy to live happily ever after?"

Sarah nodded "The Big Bad Wolf. But now, I'm quite a bit older, I've learned more, read much, much more. Looking back now, I guess you're more a Long John Silver."

"Long John to his friends, _Long _John to the lady friends?" The Goblin King inquired, tugging at Sarah's waist to attempt to move her from knee to lap, with no success. The girl, no, woman really, he had to stop underestimating her, stiffly resisted the strength of his hands. She pulled away, but did not stand. Teasing, taunting, without knowing it.

She wanted to deck him for such a lewd comment, but Sarah knew that would just please him even more. Fighting him was useless; she knew that, because even if she beat him, he'd still win by making her respond. It was infuriating.

"Not a poet and not a gentleman either." She settled for observing.

"But you wouldn't be happy with a poet or a gentleman, now would you, Proud Sarah?"

He was right. Sarah had made certain to avoid dating anyone who had exhibited any type of danger or haught. She had subconsciously shunned anyone who reminded her of the Goblin King. That had meant that she had very few dates, considering the nature of most teenage boys, but that suited Sarah. She graduated early with honours, and soon enough was doing student, and then full time, teaching in drama to high school students, and working on plays at the community centre over the summer. She'd had more dinners with gay men than straight, truthfully. She found too many men arrogant and possessing over inflated egos. But even the sweetest of guys were lacking that grace and charm she so desired.

Not that she would admit it, not for all the little plastic toys in China, but he was right.

"What, so you think _you_ know who I'd be happy with, mister high and mighty goblin king?" Sarah scoffed, turning her head and pulling his arm off her waist.

Jareth sighed, hadn't he already made that abundantly clear? Of course he knew! He knew better than herself whom she would be happy with. Anything less was inconceivable, happy, she would be more than happy! He wouldn't allow it another way!

Sarah seemed then to realize were she was currently was not where she had been when she began her poetry recitation, and panicking, leapt from his lap, though, he noted with great relief, she still held the ring. If she had dropped it, Jareth wasn't sure he'd have been able to restrain himself. "Take me back to the school, right now!" She demanded, outraged and scared.

"Sarah, I did not take you from the school," he said softly, reaching out to nearly brush the sleeve of her shirt, but pulling away at the last second. "I have no power over you, remember?"

"Then how did I…?" A thought. "'Proud Margret stept in at the door of the hill,' I said it and stepped forward!"

Jareth shook his head. "Your poem is a translation of a Scandinavian one, those words alone don't have the magic in them to cross worlds. The original might, but not those. There had to be something else. Could any of the fair folk been about?"

"Fairies? No, too many children for sprites and brownies, and pixies would find themselves outclassed and shamed." Sarah chewed the inside of her cheek furiously, wondering how she had gotten to the Underground.

"What about Robin?" Jareth said, speaking more to himself. It was a habit that came of living with goblins, one became rather fond of ones own voice, especially if it meant hearing less of theirs. "My uncle has always been soft on that hobgoblin, and Puck has the power to open a gate, if he wants."

"Puck? Your uncle? Wait, Puck, _the _Puck? Never mind, no. I'm in a populated area, and I doubt any creature of Faerie would be able to stand it. And the courtyard has wrought iron gates!" This last flash of insight brought a hiss from the Goblin King. Cold iron was poison to all who dwelt Underhill, in the Underground, within the Fae realms.

"Then it must have been you."

"How?"

"I don't know." Jareth admitted, tapping his mouth a few times in thought. "But I'm sure I can find out. Given time."

Sarah stomped a foot. "I don't _have_ time! For all I know five minutes could be a week above!"

"It isn't." Jareth told her matter-of-factly.

"But time _does_ run differently here."

"There is that." Jareth produced a crystal, enlarged it to the size of a melon, and set it spinning in the air. Sarah opened her mouth to ask what he was doing. "Be quiet. I'm going to see if I can get information." Sarah closed her mouth and frowned, not pleased with the dismissive tone he'd used. A picture appeared on the crystal, distorted by the sideways angle at which Sarah was viewing it, though it was undoubtedly clear enough to Jareth.

The image was of a dark featured matron with a ladle in one hand, shouting at the retreating figures of three boys _"Try that again an__**you'll **__be dinner next evening!"_

"Hello Rainie. Having trouble with the apprentices?"

_"Why Goblin King, what brings you ta call? Not that I mind, an if you're wantin' more beasties for yer castle, you can have the lads."_

"Actually, I was hoping to get a word with the master, is he free?"

Rainie, dressed in a loose over tunic and crisp apron that minded Sarah of the powerful cook of a wealthy household, shook her head and 'tsked' disapprovingly.

_"Locked in the study with that damned flower again. Won't leave for anythin."_

Jareth sighed. "See if you can't convince him, or else I'll have to go to my aunt and ask if the maiden or crone would come, as that dumb old bird refuses to help."

_"Oh, he wouldn't like that,"_ Rainie grinned, quickly vanishing from the surface of the crystal.

"Who is that?" Sarah asked, shifting from foot to foot. She wanted to sit down, but Jareth's throne was the only remotely sanitary place to do so, and she was NOT sitting on his lap again.

"Urania Midthorne, mistress of house at the Bardic school. She'll get that old bastard Taliesin down here soon enough."

Ok. This wasn't making much sense to her, but Sarah decided to just roll with it, see what happened.

_"Bah! My most troublesome student, Jareth what do you want?"_ The man who came into view didn't look that old, Sarah thought, considering Taliesin was a 6th century poet, if her knowledge of history wasn't failing her. His hair had once been black, though now it was a grey that seemed almost wolfish. He had wide set sharp blue eyes and a hawk like nose. Yes, his face was lined, greatly, but something in his posture suggested to Sarah that he could live another thousand years.

"I wasn't aware I commanded the title of the merlin's most difficult student." A smile quirked the Goblin King's features.

_"I didn't say you were difficult, you pompous brat,"_ Sarah stifled a giggle. _"I said troublesome. Always, those women coming to check in on you. Hovering vixens, your relatives."_ She decided the old man was quite agreeable, if he could scold Jareth like this and have him _smile_ about it.

"I take it you mean my aunt?"

_"Of course I mean your aunt! You think I _liked_having Queen Titania, damn near omnipotent ruler of the Fae, dropping into my school while I'm trying to teach a dozen teenage boys magic?"_

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "You're Queen Titania's nephew?"

"Yes," Jareth snapped. "And I thought I told you to keep quiet."

_'You did.'_ Sarah thought dangerously,_'But you have no power over me'  
_

_"Who's that?"_ Taliesin asked, curious. He leaned forward and his long hair fell into his face.

"That, my dear Merlin, is why I called you. Remember that… unfortunate loss I suffered a few years back?"

_"The little chit of a girl who beat you? Only second ever to win against__**any**__ Goblin King, and her without any sacrifice? That one even embarrassed __**me**__, you know."_

"I'm terribly sorry I shamed you, Taliesin," Jareth shot back insolently. "But she's come back to cause me trouble again, you see."

_"So you want a love potion this time? Or a carefully crafted enchantment? Or have you already offered her the world?"_

"Do not taunt me!" Jareth spat angrily.

_"I'm the merlin, and your teacher, I'll taunt you all I like."_Anyone could see that he'd touched a nerve, and the old bard wisely sidestepped the subject. "So how did she return, anyway?"

"That is why I called you. I have no idea."

_"You checked for incantations?"_

Jareth quickly relayed what they had already gone over to Merlin, who scowled.

_"She ever done magic? Any Fae blood in her or the like?"_

"If there is anything at all tinged with magic, it would be on he mother's side. Her baby half brother was without a doubt the most mundane child I'd ever seen."

_"Well, let me see her, Jareth."_Taliesin gestured impatiently as Jareth raised an eyebrow in confusion._"Move the damned crystal so she's in range. Dannan, I use the large mirrors for lessons these days, I'm scrying you in my water glass."_

Abashed, the Goblin King shifted the floating sphere to take in Sarah, arms crossed and feathers sticking to her black slacks, she did not look amused, to say the very least.

_"Hellfire!"_ Taliesin shouted, before vanishing from the crystal and storming into the room in person. Jareth didn't even get a chance to rise, the Druid moved that fast. "Are you blind and stupid?" He had the goblin king by the ear. If it weren't so frightening, it would have been funny. As it was, Sarah could only reach back with her hands to find a wall to lean against.  
"It's no wonder she beat you, you arrogant, ignorant, self absorbed, spoilt little beast!" Jareth moved to struggle, but found his arms pinned, rather painfully, behind his back and himself forced to his knees in front of Sarah "_Look_ at her, you ridiculous fool! In her veins flows the blood of the only other ever to win back a child. THE child. And his too! The latent power in her could match any minor Fae untrained and un awakened! AND. YOU. GAVE. HER. FAE. FOOD!" The old man roared, red faced and trembling in rage.

"Uhm, not to seem, you know, rude, but, how about you enlighten the mortal?" What an image it made, poor Sarah scared senseless as the Goblin King that had frightened and enchanted her so completely years ago grimaced in pain from the grip of an elderly man in midnight dark tunic and leggings shoving him to the ground in front of her.

"I suppose," The Goblin King managed to say without getting chicken feathers, or worse, in his mouth, "That it is good I didn't call my aunt to bring the maiden or crone."

"That." Spat Merlin, "Is the biggest _fucking_ understatement of your entire reign." He released his former student, who slowly stood, not even attempting to hide the amount of pain he had lately been in.

"Let's take this somewhere we can sit down, shall we?"

Taliesin made a noise of approval. "For this story, she'll need it."

_That_did _not_ sound too promising.

When Jareth had seated them each on a divan in a parlour, he covered his face with a hand and asked "Where do I start?"

"Perhaps the beginning," Taliesin prompted.

"All right, in the beginning, there was the Word." A book flew off the table and hit the Goblin King in the side of the head.

"Not_that_ beginning, you smartass! Fine!" The merlin straightened in his seat, taking control of the tale. "In Jareth's grandfather's time, the first children were wished away to the goblins. Now old Drystan was only beaten once, by a girl of bare ten years. She had wished away he baby half brother, angry he had made her mother remarry 'that dreadful king' who had killed her father, angry she'd been shunted aside to the position of nursemaid."

"Sounding familiar, dear Sarah?"

"Shut up, Jareth." Sarah and Taliesin said in unison, shocking the Goblin King into silence.

"Now, as I was saying. The girl was of a powerful bloodline, and this was in the days when your world had lots of magic. Her line was know for harnessing the natural magic, absorbing and generating enormous amounts of occult potential. She didn't bother running the Labyrinth. She just look Drystan in the eye and said 'You will give back my brother. You will not harm him in any way. I will protect him, and he will become a great king. Once that has happened, _I_ will return here in his place.' She didn't ask, she told him. And he agreed. Not because he was afraid of her, even though if she did try to fight him he knew she would be able to hold her own for a while, but because he was impressed by her courage and her promise. He told her about an island that was between her world and the underground, where she would live until her time was over and it would fade from her world for good. She was a devoted sister, protecting her half brother with the great magic she learned. She even bore a child by him, though he knew not who he lay with, in his crowning as High King." Taliesin paused, passing the tale back to Jareth.

"And the boy became a great king, his knights the talk of nations." Jareth recited, as if in class and very, _very _bored. "Tales were told of him, though his loyal sister was portrayed as a villain. But Morgan did not care, she had saved her brother, and if Avalon was to be her prison for eternity, she would resign herself to it."

"Wait, Morgan, Avalon, are you saying _King Arthur_ was wished away as a baby?!?" Sarah gasped, sitting straight up.

"And the last horse finally crosses the finish line." Jareth drawled prompting the young woman to lob an aptly named throw pillow at him. He caught it, of course, but the sentiment was there nonetheless.

"And you, young miss, have the blood of Morgan in you. Arthur too, unless I miss my guess. I'd say you're a direct descendent of Mordred. "

"So what does that mean?" Sarah asked, looking nervously to the merlin. She was related to Morgan la Fae? And how on earth did he figure this out just by looking at her?

"It means, when _this_ lummox went and fed you fae food,"

"I had ONE, highly specialized, minor, minimal energy, spell on it." Jareth interrupted.

Taliesin continued as if nothing had been said. "He awakened the magic sleeping in your blood. Even this far removed, Morgan's line absorbs magical energy. When you spoke your words with intent in a small area closed by cold iron, you tapped the energy that had been contained there, produced by growing things. You can do magic. Not like Jareth, but like myself and that witch, Morgan. Incantations or gestures, just thought if you were trained."

One thing hadn't become clear in this explanation. "So, who are the maiden and crone you kept mentioning?"

"Vivian and Morgan. I do hope you've read enough to know who Vivian is."

"Oh!**That's** why Merlin didn't want you talking to them. Hah, it's the past repeating itself. Morgan beats Drystan, Vivian beats Merlin, Sarah beats Jareth!"

"Ahem!" Taliesin cleared his throat. "I'm going back to my school. Get your sorceress girlfriend back where she belongs, and next time a candidate wishes away a babe, use your second sight, for goodness sake!" With a shimmering wave of air, he vanished.

"I want to meet Morgan." Sarah declared.

"No."

"Why not? She's _my_ ancestress."

"I said no, Sarah. Go home. Say whatever words you like, think hard on going home, and leave me before the goblins find their way back from the forest where I sent them. You've been gone for five hours above."

"Shit! Uhm… oh screw it, there's no place like home, there's no place like home" Sarah closed her eyes and felt the air change this time as she returned to the courtyard. The sun had set, and she shivered, glad the school day had been over when she 'left'.

Armed with new knowledge about herself, Sarah smiled. Now that she knew about her magic, she could go bother the goblin king whenever she felt like it. And, she realized, go see her oldest friends. Sure, the time thing might be difficult, but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

She only hoped it wouldn't fall apart under her feet.

_"But that grief is heavy I know."_

* * *

Well, the utterly sappy beginning of this chapter is hopefully made up for by Taliesin and his scolding. To my friends on Gaia, Tyra and Ember specifically, hope you have fun reading this. I've got plans for this to go a LONG way, but with my laziness, don't expect more than a few updates a year without much prodding. Reviews and PM's will make me write. Otherwise, Proud Sarah will just go into rotation with all my other fics and be updated more or less when I feel like it. Ask my readers for my Titans stories, I leave you hanging for AGES without motivation. 


	3. Chapter Two: Ring A Ring O' Roses

"Well I don't care what that selfish goblin king says." Sarah said aloud in the empty theatre. Her students hadn't arrived yet, and she was contemplating how she would spend her weekend. The Underground was appealing, but she'd have to figure out how to get where she wanted and how to manage the time issues. Sarah was looking forward to her Elizabethan production of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Not the only perk, but the one that had sold her on her job at the all boys academy, was the ability to perform such plays with the roles played by those types of actors they were written for. Today, she was holding auditions for the part of Oberon.

Noisily, the boys scrambled into the room. Sarah stood, smiling as she always did when their enthusiasm got out of hand. "Well, my young actors, you come here today to audition for the role of Oberon the Fey! A most challenging part, I assure you. I expect the very best effort of each of you. Now, which brave soul will venture on stage first?"

After a scuffle, a bulky blonde named Robert pushed his way to the front. "I will, Ms. Williams. Where should I read?"

Sarah laughed. "Read? You aren't reading at all. We'll be improvising. You will take on the persona of Oberon and respond to my prompts as Titania. It doesn't have to be all speech, act fully. Move about. Use body language. Respond to my motions, my tone. Shall we begin?"

Sarah flounced to the centre of the stage, adopting a regal expression of disgust. "Why comest thou, jealous Oberon?" She snarled at the boy, fingers curled about her forearms as if they were holding her back. "Have I not right to find amusement with _children_?" She turned away, the accusing tone in her voice rising as she reached the final word. "I have none of mine own."

Robert gaped, open mouthed. His teacher just _raged_ at him. Granted, it was in character, but how was he supposed to respond to that? Sarah had been afraid of this, one ad lib failed. One of his friends laughed and climbed on stage, but his words died in his throat when he saw Ms. Williams' face, cold and calculating. She was projecting an aura of pure hate.

Breaking character, Sarah sighed. "All right, come on, anyone. Why comest thou, jealous Oberon? Have I not right to find amusement with children? I have none of mine own." Softer, a bit less harsh, but still angry. No one stirred. Sarah closed her eyes briefly, praying someone, _anyone_, with a bit of talent would step up to the role. She repeated her prompt with all the feeling and passion of her first time through, in one last vain hope of being answered.

"Am I not thy king? If thou desirest children of thine own, why dost thou scorn me?" The voice was haughty, angered as well, and powerful. Sarah's mind leapt to continue such apt adaptation.

"Fie! Thou art a king but by virtue of wedding me." Still turned away, she stepped further towards the edge of the stage. "Any child borne of such _union_ would doubtless inherit thy fearsome temper." Sarah managed to make the word union seem as if it were too personal a word to use. "Nay, I shall content mineself with mortal children, for they are far the sweeter" Sarah let the idea of contenting oneself with mortals drop as a sort of sad compromise between what she wanted and what she would receive. Chin high in contempt, she stepped further from the source of the words, feeling her skirt swish against her legs, as she put distance between them that would allow a dramatic act on the part of 'Oberon.'

"Come away, Titania, they deserveth not the presence of thy beauty, and thy love." Softly, imploring, but still angered. "Far more than thou, who doth wish to chain me." A stamp of the foot, arching of the back, this was royal indigence that should be mirrored by the actor personating the Fae King.

"Chain thee? Thou art chained by none but thine honour, my queen. Come away, I say." A hand grabbed her arm violently, turning her around and nearly into the arms of the speaker. Only her stiffness and stubborn pose prevented it. Sarah was not surprised, however, that it was the Goblin King, in an open white poets shirt and thankfully loose slacks, which had seized her. She couldn't help it, she laughed.

"See boys?" She declared loudly, taking the role of teacher again. "Here is someone who _knows_ how to play a Fae king." Sarah pulled her arm away and gave an acknowledging bow.

"Why are you _here_ Jareth?" She hissed under the sound of applause. Jareth only smiled dangerously.

"Boys, this is Jareth, he acts a bit," Sarah couldn't help mentally adding _a bit of a jerk is more like it..._ "And has this annoying habit of showing off by arriving unexpectedly. Since he's here, why don't you ask him some questions about acting? I'm sure you've heard enough of _my_ opinion on the subject by now." Sarah was never above petty revenge.

"What parts do you play?" Jon asked.

"I play many parts." Jareth replied smoothly. "I've played, oh, a rock star, a scientist, magicians, vampires, why I even played opposite your Ms. Williams as the Goblin King, once upon a time."

Sarah rolled her eyes, as if 'once upon a time' to her meant too long ago to be worth mentioning.

"How do you commit lines to memory?" queried Nathan.

"I find it far easier to remember things with a pattern."

"What do you mean by pattern?" "Well, like poetry. The rhyme and rhythm makes things fit. That's why Shakespeare is so easy to memorize."

"What was it like playing a rock star?"

"Amusing. I could do it all my life, really."

"What was the part you enjoyed playing most?"

"And why!"

"Always 'why', with you, Will."

"Shut up, Scotty."

Jareth held up a hand. "To be perfectly honest, I enjoyed my time in the role of the Goblin King the most. I was able to spend a great deal of time with the _lovely_ Sarah Williams, who was still new in the career. I'd like to think I helped to _nurture_ her _budding_ talent, but she was gifted in ways that _surprised_ me." The innuendo was thick enough that even **without** them being teenaged boys, they were sure to have caught it. "She was a _pleasure_ to work with." Catcalls and whistles filled the room.

"Alright!"

"Way to go teach."

"Teach nothing, Jareth and _Ms. Williams_, kudos Jareth."

He was taking away her students. Destroying her image. She would not stand for that. Sarah decided to reclaim the room from the fae in the only way she knew how. She began to recite.

"Give me the child." Murderously, with enough venom in her tone to down a horse, Sarah advanced on the Goblin King, perched on the edge of the stage without a care. "Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here, to the castle beyond the goblin city, to take back the child that you have stolen." They were meant to be words of solemn defiance and challenge, but Sarah projected her anger on them, with righteous fury and motherly distress. "For my will is as strong as yours," Or stronger, perhaps. Sarah's eyes were flaring with her passionate words. "And my kingdom is as great!" Now but a step away from Jareth, she looked down her nose at him and snarled the final words "_You_ have no power over _me_"

She didn't speak the words the way they were written. Nor did she mimic any of her past recitations of the monologue. No, this time she was fuelled by blind fury, and her body radiated it. Something in her expression shocked the students to silence.

"Don't let him fool you, I barely know him. We had one performance together, and I haven't seen him since. I'll assume that since he tracked me down, he has something important to say. I'll be rid of him soon enough. But for my students, in case you've forgotten, we're still putting on a production. So, if you want to try for Oberon on Monday, I suggest you prepare. Get into his head; you cannot just be Tim or James _playing_ Oberon. You have to be the Fey king himself. You must be Oberon, regal and imposing, possessive, competitive, and violent. You have to take on his mannerism, his body language, to become elegant, noble, and most importantly, Fey. If you can channel that otherworldliness, I assure you, becoming Oberon will be easy. See you all on Monday!"

Sarah clapped her hands to dismiss them, and sent a death glare the goblin king's way. He didn't even have the shame to flinch. Well, if he wanted to play oblivious, she would do the same. Striding smoothly backstage, Sarah ignored him completely, moving into the tiny makeup room and the counter she used as a desk. Locking her drawers, she took her seat, an old barstool, the highest vantage point in the room. It helped her keep control of the boys, who sat on a single bench stolen from the lunchroom.

Jareth followed, lurking in the doorway. "Sit down and explain yourself." She ordered, beginning to lose her nerve now the students had left and the nature of her guest set in.

"I'll just stand, thank you."

"You will sit down." She repeated, thinking to herself _this is so unfair, what did I do to deserve this? _

"You portrayed my aunt Titania quite well. At least, as she is around Uncle. She's much nicer when they're not quarrelling."

"I said sit DOWN Goblin King." Jareth's eyes sparkled dangerously.

"Will you make me, then?" He asked, running his tongue across his teeth as if in anticipation of her trying. Sarah felt heat begin to rise to her face. She couldn't overpower him physically, and besides, if she were to try, chances were things would take a turn against her mind, and toward her instincts. She didn't trust herself to touch him, not yet. However, Sarah had read enough fairy tales and nursery rhymes to think that maybe she could force him to sit down, without stirring from her seat.

'Ring a ring o roses,  
pocket full o posies,  
ashes, ashes  
and Jareth sits down'

There was a sing song finality to her tone, and Sarah felt warmth spread from her solar plexus outward.

Not of his own will, the goblin king took a seat on the aluminium bench. Eyebrows raised, he produced a crystal, letting it dance back and forth across his hand.

"Nursery rhymes, Sarah?"

"It seemed fitting," She countered, "Seeing as you act like a spoiled child so often"

Jareth merely rolled his eyes.

"Why on earth, pardon my lack of a better term, did you show up _here_, and during my Oberon auditions, of all times!"

As he reclined gently on the bench, Sarah was barely able to restrain the jump that accompanied the realization he'd returned to what she'd come to think of as his 'working' clothes, complete with pants that left nothing to Sarah's vivid imagination.

"I came here because there was a mutual desire for my presence."

"What?"

"You asked for someone who could play Oberon, I wanted to see you. Simple enough to grant both wishes."

"Jareth, not that this isn't flattering, but -," Jareth had risen, taking away her height advantage.

"Ten years, Sarah!" He raged, slamming his leather clad hands against the counter. "Ten years of shame, of mockery, of rejected misery! Ten years, and as many attempts on my Labyrinth. It's normally maybe five a century, not one a year! And they nearly always take the trinket I offer, maybe one or two refuses and tries to reclaim the child, one or two in perhaps fifty!"

"And?" Sarah asked, trying to hide her interest with some degree of success.

"And they all failed. Every last one of them. They always do. And each time they failed, it was like losing you all over again."

"To me." Sarah interrupted.

"What?"

"You lost _to_ me, you didn't _lose_ me, that implies possession."

"It was both, Sarah, and you know that; why else is my ring now on a chain, resting hidden on your bosom?"

Sarah flushed in anger. How did he _know_ that?

She'd had enough of this. "Leave, Jareth, or I will. I don't want to have these conversations now."

The Goblin King made no move to obey. Sarah took a deep shuddering breath, recalling the cantrips she'd armed herself with on her lunch break. Her scheduled trip Underground had been bumped a few hours up. She brought the one she thought to use to the front of her memory.

"There was an old woman  
Lived under a hill;  
And if she's not gone,  
She lives there still." Sarah focused her mind, her thoughts of the woman as Morgan, and of her joining Morgan under the hill. Then, as she finished the rhyme, she pushed with her mind, and the room began to shimmer. Jareth's eyes went wide, but Sarah was biting her tongue and concentrating on the thought of Morgan, of her ancestress the sorceress.

"Ten years of silence, and _now_ you chose to start doing magic at journeyman's levels?"

"It's easier when you mean to do it." Sarah replied snidely. "This must be Morgan's place, care to join me for this family reunion?" The room had dissolved to show the gate of a finely carved stone castle; which seemed to have grown out of a mountain rather than been built.

"Not a chance. Taliesin would eviscerate me if I set foot in her home." He vanished in a puff of glitter.

"Drama king..." Sarah muttered, raising her hand to a knocker shaped like a crescent moon crowning a circle.

"I'm not a cripple." A woman's face appeared in the circle, somehow serene and grumpy at the same time.

"Oh!" Sarah had still not gotten used to the idea of magic as real; though she realized that, considering what she'd been through in the last several days, little things like a talking doorknocker shouldn't be surprising her any more. "I'm so sorry, I'm looking to see Mistress Morgan, is she available?"

"Indeed, and what makes _you_ worthy of the sorceresses valuable time?"

"She's, that is, I am descended of her, according to Merlin." The knocker fell silent and the massive doors swung out to admit her. The hall was beautiful. But not just beautiful, it had power too. Sarah didn't know it was because every inch of the castle was built to contain and produce massive amounts of magical potential.

Gazing open mouthed at the splendour, Sarah paced slowly down the hall, admiring tapestries featuring maidens and unicorns, reached out to touch an elaborately carved cherub. She wondered at the source of the light, a soft green glow that seemed to come from everyone and nowhere at once. It was awkward to be wandering around like this, and Sarah was relieved when a young woman about her own age in a thin linen dress turned a corner and beheld her.

There was a brief moment where her eyes lost focus, then the woman's face brightened. "I'll take you to Lady Morgan. Follow me." It was odd, Sarah noted, how this woman seemed to learn something about her just by looking. She followed as directed.

"Morgan, you have a guest." The woman called when they came to a closed mahogany door.

"Anyone I know, Vivian?" So this was Vivian, good to know.

"Your blood knows her." The door vanished. Not opened, simply ceased to be there. Sarah blinked and stepped in as a woman in a dark green gown beckoned to her. The woman looked ageless; she had vibrant auburn hair with a two-inch streak of pure white on the left side. Her eyes were bright green, contrasting both with the Kohl that lined them and the robins egg blue gem about her neck.  
"Well, well, your aura is as bright a red as I've ever seen. Yes, blood calls to blood." Sarah trembled as Morgan reached a hand up and took her chin. "What is your name, young woman?"

"Sarah Williams."

Morgan nodded, leaning forward at her cluttered desk. Sarah observed mirrors of obsidian, a rose as brilliant a blue as any summer sky, pendants of complex Celtic knot work, and more. "Well, Sarah, you are obviously my descendant, and it's no wonder you're accumulating magical energy at such a steady rate, knowing that." The sorceress rose, reaching a height far closer to six feet than Sarah's own, causing Sarah to let out a gasp of shock. "Please, Sarah, do tell me how you came to be Underhill in the first place. Spare no detail; begin with where you first experienced magic."

"Well, I read a book. Actually lots of books. Ever fairy tale or fantasy story I could find I read. But I was really angry one night, and recited lines from 'Labyrinth' to my baby brother. Er, half brother, really. Somehow I stumbled upon the right words, and the goblins came and took him away." "Did they..." Morgan smiled. "And?" "Jareth... that is, the goblin king, he offered me my dreams."

"For the child?" The sorceress seemed intrigued.

"That's what he said. I said, no, I had to get my brother back. He was so small, I couldn't abandon him."

"So you ran the Labyrinth, now I see where this is going. Sarah Williams, now the name makes sense. Did anything interesting happen while you were in there? Not the traps and mazes, something that could have changed you?"

"I ate a peach, I didn't know then it was from Jareth, a friend I made there gave it to me, orders and everything. It was... tainted or something, and I had, well, I guess it was a dream." Sarah squinted, trying to remember that long ago dream within a dream. "It was... a ball. Everyone was masked, except for me... and... Jareth."

"He was there?" Morgan seemed to jump to attention, looking Sarah over critically. "Did he dance with you? Talk to you? Sing to you? Kiss you?" A thought crossed Morgan's mind. "Laugh at you? Did he threaten you? If he dared to strike you... were you dressed like the others? Can you dance?" Morgan kept tossing one question right after the other, without pause for an answer. "Vivian! Get in here! She ate fae food," She paused, "How long ago was this?" Sarah told her. "A decade past, and entered a masquerade illusion! Vivian! Get IN here."

The woman returned. "Oh, Vivian, this is too perfect! Merlin's little protégé awakened dear Sarah! He tried to change the story midway through!" Vivian chuckled at Morgan's words. From the changeling challenge to Ella Cinders, and who knew how it would end.

"What did you do to him, Sarah?" She asked admiringly, as the two women lead her out of the office and up a marble staircase without her notice.

"I... I was scared of him. I tried to be the heroine from the story, the strong girl I'd read about, but I was scared. I just mouthed the words to defy him. I didn't even know if I meant it."

Morgan looked puzzled. "Why were you afraid? Jareth's not frightening, is he?"

"If I recall, he's quite good looking." Vivian added, also confused. Sarah felt her face burn. "Oh, I see. You must have been... what, fifteen? A bare slip of a girl, having to defeat him? That must have run counter to your instincts."

"He... at one point he leaned against a wall in front of me, you know what I mean, and asked... how I was _enjoying_ his labyrinth. He was so close, looking into my eyes, searching, I thought my heart would stop then and there."

"Gets that staring thing from his father, one of the few traits the lad inherited." Morgan commented, leading Sarah into a dressing room and taking measurements with her hands. Sarah was not surprised to shortly find she was bare, save the ring on its chain.

"What is his father like, then? Can you tell me?" Sarah asked, more to deflect the conversation than out of any real interest.

"Eh, what a boy. Elgoain. May Dannan hold his soul close. He died a long time ago; when Jareth was little more than a babe in arms and his sister Elaine still chasing garden gnomes through the mud. Broke the Queen's heart, it did." Vivian spoke softly, handing garments to Morgan, a chemise, crisp and white. Morgan waved a hand and dropped the neckline obscenely low before working the chemise onto Sarah.

"Elaine... so he has a sister?"

"Of course. The position of Goblin King is always held by a younger sibling, to show the goblin's relationship as a younger species than the Fae."

"I never knew that…" She said dumbly.

Morgan scoffed, tossing away a corset she had been holding as if it were trash. Clothing was scattered around the room, pulled out of chests and off hangers, vanishing after someone dropped them to the floor. "Try the whalebone one, Morgan. I'll find the velvet overdress, blue for her, yes, and the, you know the one." Vivian buzzed about, making Sarah dizzy.

"Well, once you're outfitted, we'll introduce you to her. She knows him far better than we do, and the more people you know here, the better. Once Morgan starts teaching you, I bet you'll even take my place at her side at all those parties she hosts." Morgan rolled her eyes and waved a hand, lacings tightened, sleeves straightened, and skirts fell into place. Before she knew it, Sarah was dressed in an elaborate, gorgeous gown. It felt like she was wearing the ocean, such a bright and cheery blue. Instinctively, she reached for the chain around her neck, trying to breathe a sigh of relief it was there, but the corset prevented her. She'd have to get used to that.

"Vivian, go call Titania and ask if her niece could visit us, while I prepare my granddaughter for the meeting." Morgan commanded, turning Sarah to face her, giving her a quick once over and a nod of approval.

"Sarah, my dear," The ageless enchantress began softly; "somehow you managed to do more than just impress young Jareth. Understand, fae do not make friends easily."

"And I bet Jareth's even worse at it, with that temper." Sarah commented dryly. She saw Morgan's eye slight with a smile before she continued.

"As I was saying, fae don't create friendships easily, love less and enemies less still. Titania and Oberon are the closest most fae ever get to love, and they share chambers only when overnighting away from their castle. But you, you turned Jareth into a lovesick fool. Or, at least, that's how Elaine would put it. She often came to me complaining about how he was taking his misery out on everyone else. She is sweet as can be, and I taught her magic, just as I'll teach you. She'll be able to prepare you for that, and likely be able to explain what that gift about your neck means."

"Mistress Morgan?" A light, lilting voice called out from somewhere below. "You asked for me?"

"Meet in the conservatory, dear. And watch out for the griffin, he's got a thing for pouncing on trailing skirts." Morgan responded, in a voice just above normal volume that still must have carried to wherever she willed it, and turned to Sarah with a nod.

"First magic lesson, Sarah. Watch and listen, this is basic transport simplified to a few simple steps." She raised a hand and muttered _'ignus__' _A bright orange flame sprang up in her open palm. "As I do will, so mote it be." The air shimmered around them. Sarah flinched as the world lurched and they arrived in what had to be the conservatory. Morgan swept past to embrace, and thereby obscure the woman who had to be Elaine.

"How are you, my dear?"

"Well enough, though I may have to go save the goblins again. That brother of mine's sent a hurricane through, flooded the labyrinth, and been playing a version of hangman with them where each incorrect letter is worth an inch less of rope." Elaine said, with a tone of long suffering tolerance of this sort of behaviour. "And you _know_ the goblins are illiterate. I'm tempted to go to Mom, but in this mood, Jareth's just as likely to ignore her too. I haven't seen him this bad since he was defeated." Sarah got her first good look at the fae as she pulled back.

She was golden skinned and red-haired, with strong cheekbones and high, long, slanting brows. A golden circlet sat on her forehead, a red gem hanging tear-dropped from the centre. She was dressed in deep violet and gold, but unlike Morgan and Sarah, her skirt barely brushed her ankles. Elaine was curvaceous and almost motherly, but the black leather boots peeking out from under her hemline spoke of a much more adventurous soul.

"And who is this, Morgan?" She asked, cocking her head to one side as she took in Sarah, who suddenly felt embarrassed. There was no reason to be, of course, but the sight of Elaine had given Sarah cause to lament her own painfully normal looks. Where Elaine's hair curled and spiralled out of elaborate piles atop her head, glimmering like fire, she had dull brown hair, cut straight and simple just above her shoulders. Elaine looked comfortable in her clothing, like it grew on her. Sarah felt like a dressed up doll in finery she did not deserve.

Morgan, sensing her progeny's unease, put an arm about the young woman's shoulder proudly. "As your family has always been close to me, I felt it prudent to introduce you to my many times great granddaughter, who has just come into full possession of the magic in her blood and who I will be teaching in the near future." Elaine inclined her head in acknowledgement, and Morgan adopted a formal pose and tone. "Elaine, heir apparent to the Crystal Garden Throne, elected Head of the Hearth Watchers, may I present to you Sarah Williams, of the line of Morgan, and Champion of the Labyrinth."

Elaine gave a start and clapped a hand over her mouth, laughing in a most unladylike manner. Sarah thought it a rather odd response to the introduction, and felt fear creep up. Was she a joke or something here?

"Oh, I'm sorry." Elaine sat down on a stone bench Sarah wasn't entirely sure had been there before. "That was so rude of me, Sarah, you just have to understand that everything just clicked. Oh, sweet Dannan, it's just, well no wonder Jareth's throwing a temper tantrum." Elaine tossed her head and drew her knees up to her chest, revealing that beneath her skirts were breeches, and, Sarah realized, she probably didn't have one of these constricting corsets on. Morgan faded out of the room, her voice the last to leave. "I'll let you talk."

Sarah felt rather awkward, and was relived when Elaine indicated for her to take a seat on the bench as well."Oh, Sarah, you sure made an impression on my baby brother." She grinned. "He's like a child sometimes, and it's no wonder he's sulking if you're here."

Sarah wanted to ask a slew of questions but settled for pulling the chain out from her gown and letting it rest in her palm. "You know him best, can you tell me why he gave me this?"

Elaine bent down to examine the ring. "A ring? Exactly as Above, I would think," She turned it over carefully, squinting. "There's an inscription on it, but I can't make it out." Sarah missed the brief look of dawning on Elaine's face, it would have been hard to catch, the fraction of a second it lasted. Sarah sighed, it was too much to ask that things be easy, wasn't it?

"Say, Sarah, do you play badminton?" Elaine suddenly asked, a sparkle in her sea-green eyes.

"DAMN!" Sarah laughed as she hit the ground, again, in a dive. She heard the rip of her jeans, conjured up in a joint effort between her and Elaine before they had begun their game. They were at Elaine's home, a large manor bordered by fields and forest, home to all manner of creatures Sarah had previously only seen in museum works along with a few she'd never heard of. Elaine wiped her brow and set her racket on a shoulder. "And that's match. How about we call it done and relax in the steam room?"

"What _don't_ you have here, Elaine?" Sarah asked in wonder.

"Electricity, processed foods, internal combustion engines, modern medicine, police," Elaine promptly began listing.

"Ok, let me rephrase that, what _useful_ things don't you have here?"

"Mass published literature. And carbonated beverages. That's about it." Sarah laughed. She had a point; they had something better over here. Magic. Such an amazing development.

"Must be nice, growing up in the Underground." Elaine stopped in her tracks.

"Not really. Father and Aunt Titania maybe had a good childhood, but I was only 120 when Father died.

"Can you convert that to the human equivalent?" Sarah asked, allowing herself to be lead through a curtain of ivy and into a garden.

"About… well, you humans age about 20 times faster than we do, so something like six, I guess. I'm relatively about two decades older than you, I think."

"That, that must have been horrible. No one should lose a parent, not that young." Sarah knew about losing a parent, but she'd been a senior in high school when her mother died. No. Not died. Was murdered. And then the rate bastard committed suicide by cop. She felt the tears well up, hot and painful, but fought them off. This was no time to feel sorry for herself, that was beyond rude. It was near insensitive.

"He died a hero. Granddad had only passed the position over a few centuries ago when he took a bolt for Aunt Titania. Cold Iron. He saved her life. They caught the would-be assassin, and the Queen sentenced him to immediate death. Dad was the only one who sensed the cold iron from the distance and moved to put himself between the bolt and his sister the Queen. He shouted out so the guards went for the right man." Elaine got a faraway look in her eyes, obviously proud and sorrowful at the same time.

"You don't need to talk about such things…" Sarah choked out, feeling horribly for bringing up such terrible memories.

"No, it's fine. It's in the past. To the steam with you, go on!" Elaine pushed Sarah through the door of a curved structure of some smooth yellow wood.

The room had a peaked glass ceiling, and Sarah noticed there seemed to be a second wall inside where the glass met the outer boundary. For steam runoff, she would later be told. The water flowed off the glass, which was kept cool enough to cause condensation by a minor charm etched into the two panes, down toughs set between the inner and outer wall, and into a basin. The water would be used for cooking or bathing later. So simple, but the real genius of it was that the water used in the steam room was well drawn, and steaming it removed the impurities. Sarah sat down on one of the stone (Marble? Or something close) benches and removed her clothing, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel Elaine slipped through the door to her. The Sidhe, of course, simply conjured away her clothing as she entered, reclining on one arm and ladling water onto the oddly patterned stone set into the pit at the centre of the small enclosure, magically twice the boiling point of water. Dragon stone, Sarah was informed. Something like a hairball, apparently.

"I expect you'll be studying Underhill history as soon as Morgan can pick an instructor and a place to begin. I may as well tell you some basics, because if things are confusing as well as dull as dirt, you'll never come back." Elaine grinned, then nibbled briefly on a lose strand of hair.

"Ok. First, the prime race of Faerie would be my people, the Sidhe or Fae. Tolkien's elves are Sidhe, just misnamed." This was no surprise to Sarah; she'd seen enough literature to make the connection between Sidhe and Tolkien's elves. "The Sidhe are composed of two courts, the Seeligh and the Unseeligh. The light court and the dark court. But do not be fooled, Unseeligh can be the purest of heart and Seeligh can be horrible. There's no division between good and evil, no matter what ballads would tell you. The ballads are also wrong about warfare, not since Titania was promised to Oberon when they were both infants. Even before those days, it was only small skirmishes."

This came as a shock to Sarah. The two courts were not at war? Had never really had bloody battles? She'd always read the two never ceased fighting, sworn enemies without a thing in common beyond species.

"We live too long and have children too seldom to advocate the needless taking of lives. And both courts have mostly the same views. Oh, there's a few things like titles and such, but the main difference is the subject of slavery. The Seeligh find it unacceptable, while the Unseeligh consider it a staple of society. But to them owning livestock, horses, even plants, is slavery. If it lives and is owned, it is a slave. For us, if it has mind enough to desire freedom and express the desire, it cannot be owned." Both sides had their points, Sarah decided, but she was glad she was with Seeligh fae, herself.

"Court etiquette and forms of address differ, but that's boring. Ah, yes. Her Majesty, Queen Titania, is head of the Bright Court, while the royal consort, Lord Oberon, is acknowledged as leader of the Night Court. But that's just titles within the Fae. The entire Underground is the domain of The High Queen Titania, Sister's child of Mab, seat of the Crystal Garden Throne, Sovereign of Faerie and the wild lands."

Some title. Long and important sounding. Sarah hoped she looked interested, despite her eyes being closed as the steam washed over her, removing aches and pains as if by magic. Who knew, maybe it was.

"Then you have humans, most keep to themselves, their own providences, like Morgan. There's quite a few areas humans are about, but none as beautiful as Avalon. You're lucky. Now, the dryads, nymphs, undine, the nature spirits tied to their own personal habitation, they rarely venture far from their homes, and never for long. They are very kind and helpful, if their sacred space is not threatened, but they can be rather shy and keep to themselves. Then there's the Dwarves. Miners, mostly, and _excellent_ smiths. There isn't any stronger than a Dwarfish blade, or more beautiful than Dwarfish jewellery. They're very proud of their craftwork, and an easy way to get on their good side is to compliment their work."

Sarah smiled faintly at her memory of Hoggle and his jewels. Yes, they were proud of that.

"Let's see, you already know more than enough about goblins, I expect. The Djinn... Ask someone else; I skipped that lesson because they scared me. Fire spirits, run away, all I remember.

"Then the little folk. Fairies are vicious little beasts with butterfly wings, vanity to spite the gods, high chattering voices and a habit of destroying things. They also bite. Pixies are always tricksters, never good to find unless you want mischief. They have whirring dragonfly wings that give off a fine dust. Watch out, if you make them angry they'll drop a dust on you that'll itch like poison ivy. Both fairies and pixies live in clans, usually numbering in the hundreds. Papa pixie and Granma fairy head the clans, and be sure to know what you're dealing with. You can bribe any pixie clan with honey, while grubs, worms and ladybugs work for fairies."

Sarah grimaced. That was not pleasant, but fit perfectly with the folklore she'd read on the little winged folk.

"The two get along like cats and dogs, mix like oil and water. Wars between them start over anything or nothing at all. Let me tell you a story about one of the pixie-fairy wars. A little fae was angry he hadn't been invited to see a play in the realm of the humans. You see, even the Puck was invited, but not him."

"Were you?" Sarah inquired, curious.

"Yes. I was the youngest there, but I went. I sat behind the Queen, the King and the Prince of Stories."

"The who?"

"The dream shaper. He commissioned the play. Beautiful thing, even if I can't remember it too well. Will was a good playwright."

Elaine shook her head and returned to her story, adding more water to obscure her face with clouds of steam."So the little fae, having complained to everyone who would listen, decided to play a prank. Aside form Robin Goodfellow, pixies are the prank masters. You pull one on them and you can brag for a while. Our young fae searched high and low until he found a cat. On finding the cat, he tied tiny bows and knots in her fur, the way fairy children do. Once she was good and angry, he set her lose on the pixie clan, who were living in a hollow tree. The cat rampaged through, scattering pixies, dust was flying, screams were piercing, and of course, the fairies were blamed. The little ne'er do well scooped up a ton of pixie dust and blew it into a fairy burrow. So the pixies think the fairies sent a cat to attack them, and the fairies think the pixies had dusted them. So itching and scratched up, the fairies and pixies, respectively, declared war on the nearby clan. It was a real mess for the court to sort out, and the massacre must have cost each side at least five dozen before it was broken up. It took the petty court three weeks to uncover the culprit and another fortnight to all the funerals. Any little thing can cause wars with the little folk," Elaine finished, the grin fading.

"What about the brat? Did the little fae get in trouble? Oh, he deserved it, fairies may be horrible, and I'm sure pixies aren't any better, but to have caused over a hundred death, that's cruel." Sarah was outraged. If the little fae got away with it, why, she'd hunt him down and make him pay herself. Once she'd learned enough from Morgan, that was.

"oh, he got punished. The pixies swore they'd have nothing to do with him ever again, and the fairies decided to plague his gardens and chambers, if possible, for the rest of his life." Elaine chuckled, but Sarah wasn't satisfied.

"That's it? No flogging? No rebuilding the homes by hand? No personally caring for the orphans? Why didn't someone take him over their knee?"

"Oh, Mom did, once I finally tracked him down. He was hiding in the mews, where the birds would keep him safe from the little folk. I had to drag him out, kicking and screaming and covered in bird shit. 'No! Elaine! Don't take me to Mom! Let me go!' He was so ridiculous 'You can't do this to me! It's not fair! Put me down!' Such a whiner. And he's _still_ paying for that, the pixies won't enter the Labyrinth, the fairies are a constant menace, and I have the image of him cowering in the mews framed above my desk." Sarah was laughing now, imagine _Jareth_ of all people, screaming 'you can't do this to me, it's not fair.' And he'd mocked _her _for saying it. He was a spoiled brat.

"If you want to make him turn red, ask about his fairy scars." Sarah made a mental note of that.

"You know," She said, "You're not at all like your brother."

Elaine looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Sarah shrugged. "You're nice."

A chill wind passed, as if something momentous had occurred.

"I think you've had enough steam for now. Dry off and back into your clothes. **Now**." Apparently Sarah had pushed the wrong button. Nice Elaine had become a stern, cold eyed hawk.

"My baby brother is **nice**. He is the kindest fae I know. He is generous and protective. Jareth cares for the goblins like they were his own siblings. And I cannot believe you would think otherwise." The steam had vanished and Elaine was in full flowing gown again, and scowling. Sarah knew apologising would make no difference. She would have to hope she didn't get flattened by the fae's rage and just sent back to Morgan.

A blast of cold air shocked her, and the chain on her neck burned. Sarah felt a sense of pure hate in wave form rush at her, and a blast of something like...love? Spring up to stop it.

"Morgan!" Elaine shouted, calling a sparkling sapphire. "Take your granddaughter away from me before I figure out a way to destroy her!" Sarah decided, then, that she hated travelling by other people's magic. It made her stomach lurch and her vision swim. Vivian appeared at her side to steady her as she landed in the dressing room, and Morgan shouted from the next room in French.

"Come on Sarah, dear. You did well." Sarah didn't think so. "You're alright. She didn't spell you, here, there's a bedchamber just down this hall." Vivian waved her free hand, a burst of violet flame appeared and Sarah was dressed in a shift instead of the torn jeans and tee. Morgan continued to shout, and Vivian shook her head, helping Sarah to sit down in an overstuffed armchair.

"What just happened?" Sarah asked, feeling pale and weak.

"Elaine lost her temper. She tried to... do something; we're not sure what, to you. Your instincts seem to have kicked in to defend yourself, so no harm done. Morgan is talking to her mother right now."

"_That's_ talking?" Sarah smiled weakly.

"With Janessa, that is practically diplomacy." Vivian tried to seem upbeat, taking Sarah's pulse and feeling her forehead.

"Oh..."

Several moments passed, and then Morgan appeared in the room, serene and smiling. "Sarah, child, let's and get a handle on your magic, then we'll send you home."

"This was my fault. I shouldn't have said those things."

"No, no, Elaine was out of line."

"No she wasn't!" Sarah argued. "If anyone had talked about Toby like that, I'd have beat them with the nearest blunt object." Morgan and Vivian exchanged looks.

"Vivian, send her home, in her own clothes. She's had a rough day."

"Morgan, is that wise?"

"Look at her. She's got herself so anxious she's bottled up all the power she has."

"Exactly why she needs training, Morgan! You can't send her back with these coping habits, at least teach her to ground!" Vivian pleaded, and was ignored.

"Sarah, child, I want you to promise you won't play with magic. I'll train you, or find teachers for you at least. But you mustn't experiment. Do you promise?"

Sarah nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Good then. To contact me, get a mirror or other reflective surface and recite 'Darksome night and shining moon, Mother Morgan, I seek a boon' Give me a few minutes to respond, I _am_ a busy woman after all."

She nodded again, mentally unable to take any more.

"I'm sending Marie to make sure Sarah gets to sleep. I'll rig the time change myself, Morgan, go back to work." Vivian was trying to make up for her earlier dismissal, and passed a hand over Sarah's face, letting sleep claim her.

* * *

Alright. That's a lot of text for one chapter, coming from me. And so you know, this fic is going to take a second place to my oldest work, Shreya to Jinx, in the Teen Titans fandom. I have a full chapter written with none of it typed, and those loyal fans are waiting. Please review, readers are why I can write with any sort of speed. I hope to spend all of New Years Eve working on fanfiction, so maybe in early January I'll update SOMETHING. 


End file.
